


haunted

by insertfandomjoke



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Childhood, Dave & Klaus Hargreeves During Vietnam, Gen, Hurt, Hurt Klaus Hargreeves, Implied/Referenced Incest, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, M/M, Minor Character Death, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, not Luther and Allison friendly, we do not condone incest in the year of our lord 20biteen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-26 05:31:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18176477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insertfandomjoke/pseuds/insertfandomjoke
Summary: Klaus grows up seeing ghosts.(Or, Klaus through the years learning the horrific nature of his powers.)





	haunted

**Author's Note:**

> There are some detailed descriptions about injuries and death so be careful about that.

At some point, they must have been just normal children, despite their powers.

Klaus doesn’t remember that point. Maybe it was the day they were born; when they were still with their mothers. That’s a pretty normal start – though he supposes that their births weren’t typical either.

Maybe it was the days following that. There were 43 of them, after all. Surely some of their mothers adjusted in the short interim before Reginald came and tried to collect them. Surely some of their mothers learnt to love their new children.

Klaus likes to think that his mother fought for him. He envisions her clutching her son, tears streaming down her face. He pictures Reginald yanking him from her arms and throwing money at her feet as a means of compensation, and then his mother, restrained by his new father’s security or whatever, yelling that no amount of money can ever come close to Klaus’ value.

Of course, he didn’t have a name then, so she probably didn’t say that, and Reginald would’ve gotten far more than seven if he had used force, but he dismisses those details.

In this fantasy his young, sober mind has concocted, he is loved.

 

He later learns that fantasies are just that – fantasies. He grows up, alongside his siblings. He is Number Four. He does not have a name. He does not have a living, breathing mother. He does not have useful powers.

He can see ghosts, though.

Four goes on missions and he isn’t just the lookout – no, because Reginald hasn’t given up on him yet. The old man still thinks that if he’s trained enough, he’ll harness his power.

Four is young enough to believe him.

One through to Six don’t question their orders. They are ten years old and this is their first “mission”, as their dad calls it.

Four watches as One and Two straighten up, proud that their dad thinks they’re ready. Three, Five and Six are excited. Four follows suit.

They enter in the bank, no armour on their tiny frames. Guns are pointed at them immediately and the bad guys say something like “move along, kids.” Four tries not to laugh – in simulations, they’re usually being fired at by now. He guesses being so young has its advantages.

The six of them glance at each other, a smile pulling at their lips, and they set out to work.

Being trained their entire lives for this very first mission, none of them stops to consider the ramifications of what they’re doing.

As bullets fly past, Four glances to his left and sees One punching the robbers into walls and snapping their necks. Two’s knives fly with deadly precision, impaling each and every target. Three uses this chaos to sneak up on some other dude. She leans in while he’s still watching the scene, mouth wide open in shock, and she whispers in his ear.

He spins around and shoots his friend.

Four ducks, shots whizzing past and ruffling his unruly hair. He lets out a whoop and tackles the nearest man onto the floor. The impact makes him wince, but it doesn’t slow him down. In a matter of seconds, Four has the man’s hands pinned behind his back.

While he’s deciding the best way to incapacitate his first catch, the rest of his siblings spread out through the bank.

Five teleports at convenient intervals, and bullets rip through the now-empty space he once occupied. They fly straight through some criminal, pummelling into their body. Six is mostly doing the same as Four, reluctant to “release the beast” without necessitation, but he’s still flinging himself with reckless abandon onto the backs of the robbers.

He catches Four’s eye and they grin.

The shots dwindle in number each passing second. The screams lessen too. Two sprints from victim to victim, ripping his knives out of their torsos and immediately whipping around to impale some other poor sod. They delve further into the carnage, and it becomes apparent that there are more in a vault underneath the bank.

Six is nominated for clean-up duty. His jaw tightens, but he enters nonetheless, lifting his shirt.

The howls seem louder from inside the vault than during combat.

Eventually, they finish up and Two cuts the hostages loose. The Hargreeves wait, ever eager for appraise, but the hostages take one look at them and run out the doors.

“Well, that was rude,” Six comments, and Four is inclined to agree.

“Considering the state we’re in, I’d say they were in shock. Also, it’s not every day that six children save the day,” Five replies.

Now that he’s said it, Four looks around. Their neatly pressed uniforms are considerably darker. Similarly, his, Six’s and Two’s hands are splotched with red. Four pulls a face and wipes them on the small part of his jumper that doesn’t have blood on it already. He hopes Mum doesn’t spend too long getting it out.

Any worries about the future fly out of his mind as Three exclaims, “We just had our first mission!”

The realisation sinks in, and the six of them, for the first time, come together to celebrate. They laugh and they cheer and they _hug,_ and oh, Four finally understands what’s so great about hugging.

They break apart when the police burst in. Instantly, their backs straighten as they assemble themselves in a line corresponding to each of their numbers.

 

When they return home, Reginald scolds them for taking so long. They’re also scolded for “unnecessary death”, but they were trained by him, so can they really be blamed?

Four pulls a face and Six stifles a laugh. They’re dismissed without praise.

He retires to his room fairly early. One would be proud – he was always such a stickler for the rules and early bedtimes and whatever other favourite-child-shtick he spouts. He switches off his light and makes his way to his bed.

His eyes have only just adjusted to the darkness when he plonks himself on the edge of his mattress. The only warning he gets that his childhood is about to become even more fucked up is a loud, piercing cry before a man sprints up to him. Four lets out an ear-splitting shriek when he sees that although this man’s face is towards him, his body is backwards.

He’s not the only one, oh no. His room is _filled_ with the dead.

The men leer out at him, all showcasing their horrific injuries while Four scrambles away, pressing himself further and further into the wall against his bed.

The ghosts – the people that _they killed_ – all have mangled necks, or blood spilling out onto the carpet, or chests that have been shredded by bullets, or-

He almost vomits when he sees Six’s victims.

Giant, gaping holes. Chunks missing from chests, from shoulders, from legs, from _heads._

He’s forced to look on in sickening, wide-eyed horror at the exposed muscle and intestines and bones _and-_

Four spots the man that he killed. _He killed him. He’s a killer._

His thoughts spiral further and further until he’s gasping for breath, apologising over and over to the countless bodies surrounding him.

He begins sobbing at some point, throat too sore to make a noise.

That night, Four curls up in a fetal position, covered with his heavy blanket and pillow pressed tightly over his ears. It doesn’t block out the screams.

 

They learn to only kill when needed. Four doesn’t bring up the fact that they shouldn’t have to kill at all.

Now, they’re twelve, and they’ve drifted somewhat. Well, not exactly _‘drifted’._ They’ve simply split. It happened after Five… after Five left.

They receive names as if that can heal the rift caused by his absence.

Four becomes Klaus.

Klaus and Six – now Ben – are inseparable but not in the way that Luther and Allison are, because, _gross._ Diego is mostly content to keep to himself, occasionally joining in on Klaus and Ben’s adventures. They become the “Even Squad”, as Ben dubs them. Vanya is alone by default.

It’s another bank robbery. They’re kind of over those at this point, but hey, at least they have a skill. Klaus isn’t exactly sure how “proficient at resolving bank robberies” would fit on a resume, nor is he entirely sure what a resume is either.

This one goes haywire almost immediately. The Umbrella Academy is well-known now, and these robbers don’t have any reservations about shooting at them. Or, at least, the leader doesn’t.

Luther reacts by snapping the closest person’s neck. The rest of the criminals pick up guns and aim them. Klaus tries not to think about how most of them are missing on purpose.

The situation now deemed appropriately violent, Luther, Diego, Allison and Ben jump into the fray. Klaus stands in the middle of it all, trying not to notice how some of these supposed villains take a bullet for one another.

He tries not to notice when one falls and another runs over, skidding on the floor as she kneels beside her fallen comrade, attempting to wake her up. He tries not to notice the desperate cries of “Don’t be dead, please, _don’t be dead!”_ And he tries not to care when the woman stands up and faces him.

_“That was my sister,”_ she tells him before she lunges at him, no gun in sight. Klaus lets her.

He’s pinned to the floor and he stares in quiet fascination as this person, this grieving sibling lifts her hand to pummel his face in. Her fist shakes in the air, knuckles pure white, and Klaus still doesn’t move.

Instead, his attention is drawn over her shoulder to a confused and newly-formed ghost. He watches as she startles at the blood smeared across her chest. She lifts her eyes and sees her corpse. He watches as it clicks.

The ghost then sees them, and Klaus’ and her eyes meet. She ignores him to run over to her sister, whose tears are now falling on his face.

She isn’t angry, like most ghosts. Instead, she seems impossibly sad. Her hand phases through her sister’s shoulder, and she lets out a wail.

Her sister lowers her fist. Not in a fast punch, like Klaus expected, but in a slow descent, coming to rest beside his head. His chest clenches when he finally looks straight up.

Her face is twisted in agony. Her body shakes and shakes and _shakes,_ and all he can think about is that they were _siblings._ And he understands.

So, for the first time in his life, he willingly makes eye contact with a ghost.

She notices this, and whispers, voice-cracking, “Can you see me?”

He nods once, short and almost imperceptible. The woman lights up and kneels beside him.

“You have to- you have to tell her that- let her know that I love her. Tell her to run. Tell her that I’ll always watch over her, please. _Please!_ Her name- her name’s Tanya.”

“Tanya,” Klaus repeats.

Tanya’s shaking pauses and her eyes fly open. “How do you-”

“Your sister told me. She told me to tell you that she loves you.”

“You can see her?” Klaus nods, and Tanya sits up. There’s no sign of disbelief, only the same aching sorrow Klaus saw in her sister. “Nessie, I love you too,” she murmurs.

“She says for you to run. Escape while you can. She’ll watch over you. She promises.”

Tanya’s eyes water again. For a second, Klaus wonders if she’s realised that he’s partly responsible for Nessie’s death and if she’ll kill him then and there, but that doesn’t happen. Instead, she stands up on shaky legs.

And then a knife embeds itself into her back.

He cries out as she makes a choked sound, blood spluttering out onto her shirt. He bolts up to catch her when she topples and then he gently lowers her to the now speckled ground. A low keening sound comes from the back of her throat. Klaus wishes he could ease her pain. Unfortunately, healing is not his power, no matter how useful that gift would be.

Despite himself, he starts crying. He shifts her onto her side and pulls the knife out, shaking all the while. More blood floods out. Klaus gags as he presses his hands against the wound, trying his best to stop the bleeding.

It’s pointless, in the end.

Diego runs up to him, pulls him away from the corpse and asks if he’s okay; if she hurt him. He stutters over his words, worry etched onto his face. Klaus doesn’t respond. He’s too busy staring at his red, _dark red, bloody hands._

His brother drags him up and pauses for a moment, waiting for Klaus to say something. He can’t wait forever though, and he rushes off to save another one of their siblings or whatever.

Klaus lifts his gaze in time to see Nessie and Tanya reunite. They look so _happy_ , even though they just died. Happy because they have their sister. Happy because they won’t be apart ever again. Happy because nothing, not even Klaus, can hurt them now.

It’s ironic that he loses Ben the very next minute.

 

He’s fourteen when Reginald decides it’s time for him to get over his fear of the dead. It’s also when he discovers the magic of alcohol. The old man forgets to lock his liquor cabinet and Klaus is the type to take every chance he can to rebel against him. Luther’s still a daddy’s boy, Diego’s a mummy’s boy, and Allison and Vanya like to keep the peace.

Someone’s got to be the fuck-up, right? And it’s not like it can be Five or Ben, Klaus muses with the opening of a bottle of Vodka to his lips. He ignores Ben’s futile attempts at grabbing it.

The first taste burns his throat. He revels in it, hoping that the other ghosts are seeing this so they can at least feel somewhat avenged. Another swig, and another, and soon the bottle’s gone.

Klaus opens his eyes and feels sick. He runs to the nearest bathroom and doesn’t bother turning on the lights before he pukes his guts out. After he’s cleaned himself up, he faces the mirror.

And freezes.

The room is empty. He whirls around, examining every dark crevice. Ben is chilling in the bathtub next to him, muttering “Told you so,” but Klaus waves that off because he can always see Ben. However...

Usually, the dead take the dark as a chance to scream at him. Except there’s no one.

A smile slowly creeps over his face. Ben doesn’t share his glee, especially when Klaus uses his new revelation to rationalise stealing half of Dad’s alcohol and hiding it under his bed.

The next mission they go on, Klaus stumbles over his own feet and is more of a hindrance than a help. He can’t see any fucking ghosts, though, so fuck the others and their glares!

When they come home, Luther rats him out and he gets demoted to the lookout until he “cleans up his act”, which won’t happen. He also gets locked in his room for a week. Klaus doesn’t give a shit – in fact, he takes it as a learning opportunity!

Once the week is through, Klaus knows how to escape the house without making a sound. He also knows the names of quite a few of the local drug dealers.

 

He’s sixteen when he leaves home with as many of Allison’s clothes he could fit on his body and pocketfuls of Dad’s stuff.

The streets are better than the hell-hole he was forced to call home. He can also get high whenever the fuck he wants and, if he accidentally sobers up, fewer ghosts try to kill him anyway.

He may be a homeless junkie, but he’s having the time of his life.

 

He’s eighteen when he gets admitted to rehab for the first time. It’s actually Diego that does this – he gets caught by his brother and instead of writing him up, as a good policeman-in-training should do, he gets sent to fucking rehab. What a fun god damn family reunion.

At least he got to meet his brother’s girlfriend. Euphoria, or something. He hopes that means Diego’s found happiness.

 

He’s twenty-nine when he time-travels to the middle of the Vietnam War. He falls in love and he _is loved_ , for possibly the first time in his life.

He doesn’t hesitate in firing shot after shot at enemy lines, reasoning the entire time that he’s fighting not for himself, but for his comrades. If he kills someone, then that’s one less person who can hurt anyone on his side, and god knows that they need as many troops as possible.

(He fights the part of his brain that whispers that his enemies have Daves too. That they have families and loves and are just trying to protect the people around them. That’s not his problem… Right?)

 

And he’s thirty when Dave dies beside him, his cries for a medic unheard and too late.

Klaus has seen ghosts in varying degrees of dismemberment, decapitation, de-everything for the past ten months – war isn’t a good time to be high as a kite – but this… He can’t bear it. So he returns to the present with Dave’s dog-tag and probably PTSD or some shit and takes whatever cheap drugs and liquor he can get his hands on.

He’s already got his memories. He doesn’t need the ghosts to haunt him too.

**Author's Note:**

> I originally intended to write a happy ending to this, I swear. I may add another chapter at some point - or even write a new fic - following Klaus through his recovery, but no promises!
> 
> Please comment/leave kudos if you enjoyed!
> 
> Also posted on my main Tumblr: [@andystanberg](https://andystanberg.tumblr.com)


End file.
